To Remind Me
by Elizabeth Tudor
Summary: Nothing touched by fairy magic is ever the same again, be it acorn or teen, and now there's an oak growing in Artemis's cellar. He has to decide whether to embrace his past decisions, along with all his mistakes, or to hide them and try to forget. Oneshot


_**A/N:** My first Artemis fic. I couldn't hep but wonder what happened to the acorn after Holly planted it, so here it is. My explanation. Takes place sometime after the second book. Read, Review, and Enjoy!_

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There was a tree growing in the basement of the Fowl manor. An oak tree, to be exact, from the acorn Holly had planted when she was a hostage. Artemis wasn't really sure how it was growing without light or water or any of the other things plants needed, but growing it was, and at a remarkable rate. _Must be fairy magic,_ he mused. That wasn't the real concern though. Artemis normally knew his own mind perfectly, but now he couldn't seem to decide. He'd captured Holly, imprisoned her, and this oak sprout was living proof of that. It would be easy enough to simply kill the little thing, but the unaccustomed shame that burned through him when h even considered this was worse even than his shame at the initial kidnapping. _I've had enough of hiding the evidence, _he decided. _Father wouldn't try to cover it up, and neither will I. The sapling will remind me that I can make mistakes too, and remind me of everything that happened. _Even with this decided though, he still didn't like seeing the sapling, feeling the thick knot of self-reproach in his stomach.

None of the servants could figure out why Master Fowl didn't just pull the pale, scrawny shoot up from its crack in the concrete, but the child insisted that a UV light be rigged over it and it be watered every day. And eventually, after a few weeks of waiting, it had begun to grow its first leaves, and was strong enough to be transplanted.

Butler groaned slightly. Sometimes Artemis was simply impossible to guard properly, especially times like this, when he insisted on putting himself at risk. Why did it have to him that used the jackhammer? Why did it have to be a jackhammer anyway? There were other ways to break up a concrete floor. The manservant sighed again and picked his still vibrating charge up off the floor for the umpteenth time.

This was a strange sight, the gardener reflected. Normally, Master Fowl didn't wander around the grounds, and as for wandering around covered with dirt, a sapling in one hand and a spade in the other, well, this had to be a first.

The teen glanced up at the house again, calculating where best to put the sapling. _Someplace sunny, _he thought, and surprised himself by adding, _where I can see it from my window. Here might be good._ He carefully put the little tree aside and stabbed the spade into ground. It didn't go far. He frowned. This was harder than it looked.

"Don't put the tree there," the gardener said softly. "The soil in that spot's not right for oaks."

"Where should it go then?" Artemis asked, rather sharply. This was turning out to be far harder than he'd though it would be.

"Over here would be a good spot," the gardener suggested, and patiently showed his young employer how to dig the hole, fertilize the roots of the sapling, fill the hole in so the tree didn't tilt, mulch it, and dampen the earth around the newly planted oak sprout. He answered any questions Artemis had, and gave him plenty of help, but made it clear that if Artemis wanted this tree, _he _was going to have to plant it.

In a way, Artemis enjoyed himself. He was filthy, sunburned, blistered, and soaking wet from a slight mishap with the hose, but he had planted the oak tree. He had done himself, planted this tree himself, and somehow, that was worth the mud and other minor catastrophes.

Later that night, Artemis glanced out his bedroom window. The little oak sapling was framed perfectly by his windowsill, and he could see it from where he sat on the edge of his bed. It was a very delicate little sprout, and winter was coming up fast, _but_ he reminded, _it's not any tree. It's been touched by fairy magic, and that leaves its mark on you._ Ever since the incident, Butler and his mother and father had been subtly changed. They seemed more conscious of what was around them, of the world, than they had been before. Artemis was changed too. He wasn't quite sure how yet, or if it was for the better, but he had been irrevocably altered by his encounter with a fairy. For a moment he wondered if it was worth it, but then he thought of his father in the hospital bed, smiling without a care in the world. He thought of his mother beside Artemis Sr., laughing easily, every trace of grief gone. He thought too of an elf with hazel eyes, who'd risked her life for them, after he had held her hostage. He caught sight of the oak again, just out his window, and flashed a rare smile. "To remind me," he murmured.


End file.
